Flip
by Boom Box Guy
Summary: Alfred dares to go against orders and chaos ensues from there. Just brotherly fluff and slight angst I guess. Bad summary but plz R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**I wished I owned Hetalia. Then it would be shown in the States on every last TV channel.**

Flip

Chapter 1

"Hey guys, wait for me!" Alfred stumbled over his feet scrambling down the gangplank nearly falling into the ocean on more than one occasion due to the sudden stability of the ground. His feet hadn't touched solid ground for weeks now and it may have unsettled his stomach, but his spirit couldn't have felt more free to finally have a break from the flat infinite plains that have defined his world for a long stretch of time. By the time he reached the pier everyone had eagerly entered taverns ready to thoroughly enjoy the luxury Port Royal had to offer.

The beauty that the pirate haven had to offer was so overwhelming that Alfred had to take several moments to soak in every last detail the Jamaican port had to offer. Sounds of drunken laughter from inside the closed doors of the taverns floated over to Alfred mingling with the sound of the gentle waves slapping against the helm of _Elizabeth_. And the smells. It was such a relief to savor the scents of freshly baked bread and slowly roasted bird wafting from open windows as opposed to the salted pork, rock hard scones, and nearly rotten fruit Alfred and the rest of Elizabeth's crew had to suffer through. The Jamaican weather was much more bearable now since the sun could no longer beat down painfully on his back this low in its descent and the gentle tropical breezes had settled in, but the humidity prevented him from shivering with the cool of night.

A large hand with a grip stronger than any bear trap settled on his shoulder and was accompanied by a harsh demand. "Would you be so kind as to tell me where you think you're going, Alfred?"

After taking a final remorseful look of longing at the men celebrating, he swallowed down any fear and replied, "Out with the rest of the crew, Captain Kirkland, sir." Alfred refused to turn around and meet the other's gaze for fear of the anger brewing in the pit of his stomach boiling over and causing a fight he would surely lose.

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure you're supposed to stay here with _Elizabeth _here; _not _go out with drunk idiots."

Against his better judgment, Alfred whirled around and cried out in indignation, "What? But I watched _Elizabeth _last time we docked to port! Find someone else to do it."

"Do you see anyone else around? 'Cause I don't. And I don't expect anyone else to be coming back for a couple days or at least until they burn all their money and don't feel like sleeping in the streets." Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in annoyance. "Trust me, it'll take a little over a day for them to become sober enough to realize they're broke and that's if they're not drinking nonstop. And unfortunately for you, lad, that means you'll be watching the ship while we're gone if it hasn't gotten across your thick skull already."

"Wait, we? Where are you going can't you just watch the ship yourself?"

"Are you questioning your captain's orders boy? I said watch the ship while we're gone. If you're lucky Sanders will probably be kind enough to keep you company after the third day or so. Maybe he'll even let you run off after a while."

"Third day or so? _How long are we staying here?_"

"We're staying here as long as I bleeding say we're staying here!"

"That's not fair!"

"Well, poppet, life isn't fair. And if you haven't realized it yet, I'm the bloody captain of this ship so I can do whatever I please. You should be thanking me for this; you'd never last more than a day on your own without needing either me or Sanders to come rescue you."

Alfred snorted, "Thanking you? Why the hell would I ever thank you? Sure you may have taken me in, but I'm sure most parents or guardians can't completely forget about their kid without some sort of guilty conscience. Though you seemed to have no trouble at all completely ignoring a child after raising it, but I should have known that the almighty Captain Kirkland had no time for things like feelings. And but if you can't have everything no one can, so you marooned Francis and Matthew just because-" He was interrupted by a very audible slap that rang throughout both men's ears as Alfred stumbled backwards. Ice cold fingers grasped his chin forcing cerulean to meet emerald.

"Never speak of those names again, though I do regret not sending you with them face the same fate. Then at least there'd be a chance I wouldn't have to put up with you and your attitude now. After all I've done for you, you still behave like the ungrateful little brat you are. I put up with you when I could have easily left you for dead and put up with you now for over eight years and not an ounce of respect or appreciation in return." He shoved Alfred towards _Elizabeth _and pointed up the gangplank. "Now, go."

He steadied himself and cast a final rather dark look towards Arthur before turning his back on him and silently seething as he went up the gangplank. Alfred was well aware of the gaze of the fuming blonde on his back on his entire ascent until he dropped down below the deck into the narrow corridors that led to all the crew's quarters.

From the small window above his cot, Alfred watched as Arthur eyed _Elizabeth_ warily a moment longer after he had disappear from his sight before he slinked into the shadows of the eaves cast by the setting sun. Once Arthur's silhouette was finally engulfed by the shadows of the many shops crowded around the main street, Alfred felt a portion of his anger disappear with him, but bitter thoughts still ran rampant in his mind.

He has made his life mission to do nothing but oppress him in life. Alfred may be one of the crew, but Arthur still insists upon talking down to him and giving him all the tasks that the rest of the crew thinks themselves above doing on top of all his normal duties as a member of _Elizabeth's_ crew. Then when Alfred becomes tired he's accused of laziness by Arthur while the rest of the crew sit there idly playing cards and twiddling their thumbs. Groaning with frustration, he sank onto the bed covering his face with his hands.

It wasn't really a just accusation for him to make to blame the crew because he's certain if they could help him they would, but Arthur isn't exactly one to cross. He wasn't the unofficial king of the seas for nothing and even the toughest of pirates on rivaling vessels have been known to flinch at the very mention of his name. Arthur is feared by mainlanders and fellow pirates alike, but strong officials back in society and other captains have admitted to be in awe of his flawless tactics in battle and his mastery over the art of disappearing. He was not one of your clique men who build themselves a bad name, but he isn't all that bad if he lets you see the real him. In fact, he's just as bad as the rumors says he is and more.

The word warning loses its meaning on this ship because of the practice is neglected on board _Elizabeth_. If a man were to speak out against the captain he'll have to spend a night in the crow's nest, which is a punishment Alfred had became very well familiar with throughout his life here on Elizabeth, but if he were to be honest he has gone far enough to have Arthur banish him up there for the whole day without any protection from the sun. The sight of the horrible blisters that adorned his body oozing blood from the site of itchiness was more than enough to keep the crew quiet and submissive, though those blisters may weigh down on him physically it can never weigh him down spiritually.

Alfred supposed the bitterness between Arthur and him could be his own fault; nothing Arthur has done has been proven to be for only his benefit only. Maybe if Arthur hadn't ripped away one of the two most important things in his life, they may have had a chance to be somewhat civil and maybe even close to what they used to have as two brothers. But he just left them there to die, what did they- Alfred blinked and a lone salty tear ran down his cheek, but he quickly wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and banished the thoughts away. Francis and Matthew didn't die and that's really all that matters.

As far as Alfred knew, Matthew and Francis were actually doing pretty well; apparently, Francis became captain of _Chance de Dame_ and Matthew couldn't have been happier from what he's heard from through the door of Arthur's cabin when other pirate captains came to discuss some matter or another. Arthur would always steer the conversation elsewhere so that's all Alfred has been able to hear about the two over these past years.

Sighing, he got up off his cot popping the cricks out of his back from the odd lump in his bed made by the hidden sack of guineas he kept underneath his bed, but had grown to be a problem once it got overweight from account of his lack of spending these past few weeks. The poor thing hadn't lost one guinea since Alfred's been ship bound for nearly two months and the thing was only getting plumper and plumper and would eventually need a second one to hold Alfred's shares of _Elizabeth's _plunders.

He climbed back up onto the deck watching as ships floated into harbor bathed in the glow of the town's candle light and the light of the moon early in its rise over the nighttime sky. One of the many disadvantages of having to stay on board was that there was hardly anything good to eat left. A stop as long as this would be a good break for the usual stale food of the sea and a time to stock up more, but being here without a new supply Alfred was stuck nibbling on a stone, excuse me, scone that had been sitting untouched in a tin that he guessed was probably his elder by a couple years by how hard it was.

The scone went down his throat like gravel and not even water could encourage the stubborn thing to go down a little bit easier.

Stringing together stars by little imaginary lines he had memorized from a map that Arthur kept in the security of his cabin, he made the odd shapes into fierce warriors brandishing swords and creatures from distant lands in his head. His eyes felt heavy, but his heaving stomach refused to let him settle down on the deck still holding a ghost of warmth from the sun earlier. Alfred was most certainly going to regret trying to eat that health hazard once morning came around. Ignoring the constant moan of his stomach, he settled onto the deck underneath the sky and his eyes began to droop until it caught sight of proud sails that came very near to the starboard side of the vessel.

He could hear the familiar sound of celebration on the decks of the inferior vessel and curiosity nagged at him until he finally decided to cross the deck to see what all the commotion was about. His eyes widened at the magnificence of the figurehead of the smaller ship. It was a woman with her long fair hair pulled back with her face creased with a smile; it was obvious the attention to detail must have been very time consuming and had cost a pretty penny. That wasn't what he was staring in awe at; it was the laughing man dressed in innumerable amounts of frill and lace that was beaming at the lights of Port Royal as if they were lit for him and him alone.

**So. Yeah, my first Hetalia fanfic. If any of you happen to be any of the people following my other stories I have one thing to say. DON'T THROW TOMATOES! Give them to Romano instead or to Japan and Germany if they ever go back on that diet. XD I have a pretty firm foundation where this is going, but it'll probably be short b/c I obviously can't update to save my life and I don't want to disappoint any more people or make myself hated on any more fandoms. If there's mistakes, my excuse is I'm doing this after 10 on a school night and I'm not done with my homework yet. So review plz. I need your help to grow writing wise.**


	2. Chapter 2

Flip

Chapter 2

"Well boys, we finally have made it to Port Royal _alive_, if I may add, and I believe that _that _is a blessing in itself. A blessing that shouldn't go unacknowledged." He took off his hat unleashing additional locks of pale gold hair that now tickled the torn sleeves of what most likely once was a beautiful blue jacket. His hat found a comfortable spot resting over his heart with its mass of multicolored plumage from the local birds swooning in the late night sea breeze. "You all know me to be a man who likes to enjoy life to its full. I am sure by any of your accounts I'm not much of a somber man."

Alfred could catch the sound of a soft snort. "Not much of a sober man either." Snickers arose from the crew and Alfred was surprised when he saw the captain's mask of seriousness cracked as a corner of his thin lips quirked up in a grin. He couldn't imagine how a comment like that would be handled on board _Elizabeth_, even if the bloke was lucky and manage to catch Arthur in something relatively close to what could be considered a "good mood". The captain managed to set his face back into its cold stony mask from before and continued.

"I will not be blunt; we could have easily died, _non_, we were going to die and had all signed our souls over to death when we set out of Peg. Most in our situation would have succumbed to either starvation or insanity, but we looked death straight in the eye and took up his challenge. Records of surviving feats like ours are left to the unrestricted imaginations of storytellers. And that my dear men," he swept his hat back onto his head and a grin that Alfred was all too familiar with spread across his face, "is most definitely something to celebrate." A chorus of cheers rallied up from the crowd of men on deck before they began scrambling about readying the gangplank.

It couldn't possibly be; Alfred leaned against the railing squinting to get a better view of the blonde. Ever since he was a child, his vision wasn't the sharpest, but there were definitely bells going off at the sight of the captain. His hair didn't set him apart from many of the men in Europe since longer hair had became the new trend for men, but hair that long was odd to go about a vessel untied. Storms on the open ocean when one slipup is the line between life and death isn't exactly the best kind of weather to have long flowing locks. Arthur isn't exactly flamboyant, but he sure wasn't found of cutting corners when it came to his appearance, even if it was just a casual day with the crew out on the open ocean. But this man was ridiculous! Arthur's usual attire would consist of a crisp white dress shirt, a wrinkle free red coat with modest fringes, and tan breeches doubled with well polished boots. On the other hand, this man has a blue coat with gold fringes, breeches that were the color of an old mare after every last hair turned the slightest blush of grey, which must have been a hassle to keep spotless, and his hat had mangled feathers, but in a previous life it must have been envied by all the local birds.

No, no. He was tired and bitter; his mind was just making an imaginary escape from this sad excuse for a life and to breathe without knowing Arthur wasn't watching from some unseen spot scrutinizing him for mistakes. His shoulders sagged with defeat as he trudged across the deck and climbed up onto the upper deck resting his head against the base of the wheel. The men on the boat opposite ambled down the gangplank clapping each other against the back hard and laughing loudly. All the while the captain watched with some sort of wistful smile on his face as the men dispersed into the taverns to celebrate.

His eyes widened. There's no possible way. A boy with tanned honey hair that fell past his earlobes limped onto the deck holding his arm protectively over his stomach. The boy was shirtless but he had various gauzes crisscrossing over his chest that showed the sickening sight of dried blood that had managed to leak through. It was like he was looking into the shimmering depths of the ocean and saw himself and his entire world reflected in the water. His reflection trudged over to where the captain was standing.

"You should go with them," he croaked with his weak voice. "I'll be alright on my own for a while." His voice cracked as his body was possessed by a horrible hacking fit which earned a discrediting glance fro the captain. The boy pounded his chest as if to beat the coughing out by force, but was overcome with an even stronger wave that sent him to his knees. The captain fell to him holding him up as the boy managed to stifle his coughs long enough to force a smile and wheeze, "No, really. I'm-" But the coughs proved themselves stronger than his willpower and his words were lost.

The captain helped steady him and waited for the coughing to stop. When it very rapidly transgressed to the point when the boy was summoning blood with each cough he slammed his fist onto his back. With a loud cough of finality accompanied by a spray of blood that splattered against his forearm, the boy stopped coughing and smiled his gratitude.

Shaking his head, the captain dragged the blonde to his feet and said, "No, because right now we have to find you some sort of doctor. And who knows how hard it will be finding a doctor in Port Royal or even a sober man."

The boy's soft lavender eyes fell to his feet and he whispered, "No, I don't want to be a burden. I'll be alright, and ,besides, there's bound to be a doctor or two around here somewhere."

"Don't be ridiculous. You couldn't get all the way to the upper deck without breaking into a coughing fit. There's no way you can get across Port Royal, let alone find a doctor, without coughing up something you need."

"It only happens if I strain myself too much. I was just chatting with George down below for a while, that's all. I'll be fine on my own."

"Well, then, you'll be an easy target for anyone who's craving bloodshed tonight. You have no choice in the matter; I'm coming with you. George and Dower should be able to handle _Chance de Dame _by themselves."

"Okay…"

He offered him his shoulder which he took gratefully and together they hobbled down the gangplank. Before Alfred knew what he was doing he ran down to the lower deck and waited for them to get a bit ahead into the illuminated street of shops and taverns before stalking them clinging close to the shadows. The pair made slow progress because of the younger's limp and almost complete dependence of the elder to stand upright.

They made various turns down alleys into the backstreets of the pirate haven that spread out like branches from the main street. The area that they were in now was far from the allure of the lights and scents of taverns and bakery and now only oozed uneasiness and danger.

"Um… Where are we going?"

"I have a close friend here. She used to be the surgeon on a ship I was apart of, but that was a long time ago and she's long since retired here. I don't know why she decided to stay here; Port Royal isn't exactly the best spot for little elderly woman to be spending the rest of their days, former pirate or not."

"So I'm hoping she isn't some sort of lady friend or yours."

"_Mon Dieu! _No, I can't see how Maria could ever be considered a lady friend of any sort. The woman practically raised me and there's an age gap of at least thirty years."

"Good, then. How much longer until we get there?"

"A couple more minutes- Actually, I'm mistaken. We're here."

Alfred peeked from behind an ancient brick building and saw the two men standing in front of a squat blue house nestled between two others that were larger than the tiny living quarters. It may have been smaller than the normal standard of houses around this area, but it had a more welcoming aura than the other houses and had a lot more personality.

The buildings surrounding were white washed houses with one floor and an attic with a window looking out into the front yard that was usually desolate of anything but tall swishing grass. But this house was painted a beautiful blue that was a blush lighter than the clearest daytime sky and its paint unlike the ones of those around it was well kept and stain free unlike the others with chips and dents and patches were the paint had worn away. In its front yard, there were colorful wildflowers peeking their heads above the tips of the blades of grass. The windows didn't have any broken shutters clinging to their hinges for dear life, but they had white curtains that shielded the occupant's daily home life from the eyes of by-passers.

The sight had put the captain into a better move and he attempted to skip up the path leading to the front door, but it looked more like awkward hopping with the boy weighing him down. He rapped on the white front door. Everything went eerily quiet. After a few minutes a faint glow filtered through the white curtains and it made its way closer to the front door. The door creaked open and Alfred strained to hear a quiet voice that croaked, "Who is it?"

There was a quiet gasp and the door was flung open revealing a woman that didn't look a day past her prime if you didn't care to observe her grey hair. She was nearly as tall as the captain himself and was far from being frail with arms that suggested a past of heavy lifting and hard labor. She flung her arms around the captain and exclaimed, "You silly boy, you promised you would write."

"I'm sorry, Maria. It's a bit hard to send letters out in sea. Most messenger ships' business doesn't lie across the Atlantic in Jamaica."

"That's no excuse. Who is your friend, _cher_?"

"That's why I came here, Maria. We got in a little match off of the coast of Florida. The prize is definitely rewarding and could put each of my mean, myself included, in a little house on an island they own or a mansion in the middle of a moor some place in Europe. Unfortunately, the results weren't as sweet. He needs to be examined right away and I was wondering if-"

"You naughty boy. Only to come over to see little old me whenever it benefits you. Well, now get on it, the both of you." She shooed them on inside her house. The captain lit a candle on the table which brightened up the room a bit while the boy collapsed into a chair taking deep breaths with obvious difficulty.

Without realizing it, Alfred had once again closed in on the pair and was crouching down low in the grass straining to get a look inside the house. Maria came back into the doorway to shut the door and her grey eyes met with his blue ones. He expected her to scream, but she just smiled down at him and waved him over. "Don't worry. I don't bite. Come inside and join us for a bit."

He shook his head slowly and tried to back away from the house.

"Don't be ridiculous. I promise we won't hurt you, but I can't say the same about the other people around here."

Alfred needed to get away before they overheard. _Now_.

"Maria, who are you talking to?" The captain walked out behind Maria and his eyes fell on Alfred. "A-Alfred?"

~PAGE BREAK~

Sanders smiled down a the bag of meat pies in his hands. The kitchen on Elizabeth had been running low on stores for awhile now and by now the pantry must have nothing left to offer except cobwebs and the occasional petrified scone that the captain forgot to eat and was left to fossilize in the pantry since no one else would touch the bland pastry. Right now, Alfred must be sulking about the lower deck bored out of his mind starving to death because he hadn't eaten since yesterday. A grimace passed the man's face. He'll admit that Alfred could get out of hand sometimes, but surely there was a better solution than what Arthur was doing.

Not feeding the boy wasn't going to solve a smart mouth. It'll probably kill the poor boy since he can barely go from breakfast and lunch without a heavy snack in between let alone a couple days. Arthur had put him on probation from food two days ago and the crew felt it was their duty to make sure he didn't starve to death. They would discretely stuff a biscuit or two down their coat pocket and hand it off to the teen later at night. He knew their captain wasn't an idiot and was more than capable of observing what was happening, but he pretended to be ignorant and let them continue. Deep down, Sanders knew, that Arthur was probably thankful that they smuggled food in to Alfred. His black heart might crack to see the ridges of his ribs grow any more defined against his skin at the expense of his own orders.

Arthur was just emotionally crippled. He had always had difficulty expressing that he cared, especially after those two twins boys came in and turned his life upside down. In the beginning, Arthur had spoiled Alfred far more than how Francis had spoiled Matthew. He was "instructed" (or at least that's how Arthur likes to recall it as, it was more liked begged) to stay down below deck so he wouldn't be interrupting Arthur while he was working or getting himself into trouble. But Alfred had always had difficulty following instructions so he had for the most part ambled his way up on deck whenever he deemed it fit.

Then there was the incident. It was your usual sunny day out on the open ocean and Alfred had decided to take a nap up on the lower deck where he could soak in some rays. Another ship was sighted and when it fired their cannons at them the situation turned hostile. Sanders was fighting along side Francis and Arthur when he saw Alfred kicking and screaming in the grasps of one of the men of the other ship. Their hand was brought down on his head and his cries were silenced as he crumpled to the floor. He had never seen Arthur get so angry, it was as if he was possessed.

By the time he blinked, Arthur was on the man and with the next the man was dead with the hilt on Arthur's swords peeking out of his stomach. After the battle, Alfred was attended by their surgeon and kept below deck for a couple weeks. Once he had made a full recovery, he was leaning over the rails watching the sun set over the horizon. Arthur had picked him up by the scruff of his neck and was given a lecture so loud that Arthur's voice shook the beams of _Elizabeth_. Then everything just went downhill from there.

He walked up the gangplank and frowned at the empty deck that awaited him. That was odd usually Alfred's up here. Good thing I came back before Arthur or else Alfred may have gotten some other sort of punishment. "Alfred?" he called below deck. No response came put the groans of the wood and the tossing of the waves.

"Hello? Alfred?" He walked into his cabin. Light filtered into the room through the window above Alfred's cot. The bag slipped out of his hands and several meat pies rolled out onto the floor. "Alfred?"

**I updated! YAY! I'm going to be pushing myself to update at least every week or so. This one is probably pushing two weeks though XD. I appreciate reviews and would like to thank Ember Hinote for being my first one. :D I'd also like to thank Luna Lupa for helping me with this. One thing does anyone know the reference behind Russia and his faucet/pipe? They always show it and I have no clue what it's alluding to. I think the sunflower thing is probably their national flower or something like that.**

**I don't own Hetalia. If I did it would be shown in the US. **


	3. Chapter 3

Flip

Chapter 3

Sanders sank onto the cot and rubbed his temples trying to assess his options at this point; to be honest they were very limited. He could either go out and drag Arthur out of whatever pub he had found and go through the bombardment of the many sides of Arthur that Alfred had always seemed to bring out. Or he could wait here and receive Arthur's fury for not telling him of Alfred's absence.

Sighing, Sanders stood and walked down the corridor into his own cabin. Sanders may be worried about Alfred, but knowing the boy, the poor sap who was unfortunate enough to kidnap him would find himself half mad within the hour and by dawn comes about on the morrow Alfred would have talked his way into his good graces. He really wasn't a bad kid; he may have a bit of a temper and an irritating amount of energy, but one couldn't be angry with him for more than half a day at best before they caved in to that wide grin. Everyone except Arthur.

But that's his own business, Sanders thought as he collapsed into his bed. Yes, he thought decidedly smiling up at the ceiling, that's Arthur's own business. He unwrapped his bandana from his head and tossed it carelessly somewhere on the rocking floor below. Sanders fumbled around his pillowcase until his fingers wrapped around the cool metal of his knife still safe and sound in its hiding place. Prior knowledge reckoned that there probably wasn't a sober man in the entire port, but one could never be too careful. His body relaxed as he let his guard lower and sleep overpower him.

~PASTA~

_Harsh sunshine glared down on the pale face of the blonde. Its harsh rays weren't taken generously by the sleeping man and were promptly ignored as he scrunched up his eyes and curled into a tighter ball, not bothering to give it conscious recognition. His eyes relaxed slightly when he felt the sweltering heat leave and in its place the cool kiss of darkness replaced it. He sighed and curled up tighter finally having enough peace to reclaim his dreams._

_Above his head, he heard the song of passing seagulls as they traveled to and from the shores of different nations. His thick dark eyebrows furrowed in annoyance at their fleeting cries. Cursing himself for leaving the window open, he sat up to stretch over the headboard of his bed to close the window only to find his limbs quite unable to obey his command. _

_His eyes flew open and he was momentarily stunned by the fierce rays enclosing him in a circle of white. Oddly enough, he wasn't comfortably tucked in his huge bed in the tranquility of the dim twilight of his personal chambers. Currently, he was lying on the deck of his ship with thick, rough coils pining his arms to his side and a large shadow cast over him._

_Squinting up at the silhouette, Arthur found his co captain, Francis Bonnefoy, leaning over him with a smirk plastered on his face. But his bitter smile that screamed of trouble in the near future had failed to captivate the blonde's attention. The little blonde boy with the soft violet eyes and the curl on the top of his head wasn't the recipient of the pirate's attention either. No, his gaze was trapped on the little boy sitting on top of Francis's shoulder with the pirate's partner's prized hat on his head._

"_Yay, he's up, Francis. Now what do we do?" Alfred pushed up the brim of the hat which slipped down and swallowed up his face whole when he tilted his head down to look at Francis. _

"_I was thinking more along the lines of-"_

"_Off with his head!" Alfred cried._

_Francis chuckled, "No, Alfred. I'm afraid we don't have a guillotine on board."_

"_Fine, I guess we could hang him."_

_Arthur blinked and shook his head. Surely, his ears were betraying him. There's no way his Alfred, his sweet, little Alfred, could ever stand by when someone's life was at stake, let alone encourage it. He always needed to be the hero swooping down into the scene and save the girl throwing a witty pun or two over his shoulder with a laugh as he makes his bold escape. This couldn't be right._

"_Sorry, mon cher. _Elizabeth _isn't exactly equipped with gallows."_

_Little Matthew pulled on Francis's sleeve that billowed around with the gentle gales of sea air. Finally, someone sane to right this atrocity. "Actually, papa, Kumajirou said that we should throw him overboard." He could have sworn the white bear with the eye patch in the arms of the child had looked at him smugly before nuzzling the blonde affectionately._

"_That's a perfect choice. A long, drawn out death. It won't be quite as long as I'd like it to be since our dear friend here can't swim, but I guess we'll have to make do."_

_After a dainty flick of Francis's hand, Arthur found himself being lifted into the air by the faceless bodies around him. In a clumsy shuffle, they made their way towards the railing with the occasional disembodied snicker and chuckle reaching his ears from unknown origins. He kicked, screamed, and attempted to claw his ways out of the men's grasp as they brought him closer and closer to the blue expanse that was to serve as his grave._

_He turned around to look at his treacherous partner, but found his back towards him as Francis made his way back down below. The Frenchman was cooing down at Matthew, who was lazily rubbing his eyes while holding his bear to his chest. Alfred's head was laying in the comfort of the crook of Francis's neck as the young child obviously fought the lure of sleep._

"_Alfred, please!" He would admit it, he was begging now. Now he was willing to do anything. "Don't-"_

_For about half a second, it was as if Arthur had grown wings and propelled himself up towards the heavens, which had pulled back a strings of clouds so that a curtain of sunshine would serve as his paved road to go and be with the angels that were already calling his name. They whispered soft words of encouragement._

"_Come on, Arthur," they said. "It's not so far. Join us and you'll never be hurt again."_

_But his heart became heavy and he took a final glance at the boy in Francis's arms whose soft blue eyes had closed. Then, that moment was over and his wings were ripped off. Wind pulled at his hair as he plummeted to the dark waters below that seemed to open its maw in greedy anticipation with white foaming at its hungry mouth. Now, he was gazing up at his legs and the underbelly of _Elizabeth _as he sank farther and farther away from the light above._

_He screwed up his eyes and prepared to be enveloped by the darkness of the deep sea, but when he peeked open he saw that the water surrounding him was still quite visible and not a deep abyss of darkness. Oddly enough, the scene was a bit relaxing on his frayed nerves. It was just him and… Well…. Just him and the sea, who was a gentle enough hostess if a bit cold._

_Arthur looked in the distance and saw a shape in an oddly placed beam of sunlight in the distance. It was just a mere speck in the distance, but several moments later proved itself to be Alfred stumbling over the large dress shirt Arthur had given him long ago since there wasn't any smaller clothing aboard the ship and none of the men could knit. (Arthur was perfectly capable of knitting Alfred better fitting clothes, but hadn't exactly dived in head first to show his crew how many feminine talents he had. Everyone knows how much he was ridiculed behind his back when he decided to embroider out in the open.)_

_The boy was giggling and running as fast as his little legs could carry him towards Arthur. Before he could stop himself, a smile had made its way onto his face as he watched the boy run towards him._

"_Al…fred…." Upon hearing his name, Alfred had stopped and looked to for the person calling for him._

_In a nearby stream of sunlight, there was a tall silhouette that burned a white more powerful than the sun. It slowly dulled so that Arthur could make out a man with wavy blonde hair that reached his shoulders. He reached out his hand towards Alfred. "Come on, Alfred. We must get back home."_

"_No!" he shrieked kicking wildly. "No! No! No! No! Get away you bloody frog; he's mine!"_

_Alfred turned away from Francis and looked towards Arthur. His heart swelled up in joy when the pair of azure eyes met up with his. Then he turned around and hugged Francis's pant leg. The Frenchman smiled and picked him up and began to walk away._

"_No, you can't do this," he sobbed. For some unknown reason, he couldn't feel the presence of the ocean and only felt his tears. "We had a deal, Francis. We had a deal…"_

Arthur awoke with both tears and sweat mingling on his face and his heart pounding frantically in his chest. He looked around and was surprised to find himself in the comfort of an actual bed on solid ground instead of sleeping on his desk with loose parchments and maps glued to his face. Somehow during the night, he had managed to tangle his sheets around himself to the point where his arms couldn't move from their place at his sides. It took him several minutes to free himself even with the advantage of being conscious.

He stood up and stretched out his sore limbs listening to the daily morning sounds of the pirate haven. There was the clatter of plates and the drone of the daily morning conversations downstairs as breakfast was already commencing.

Several moments went by and Arthur found that last night's dream wasn't too keen on just fading into the back of his mind. Sighing, he opened his door and headed down the stairs deciding a walk was in order to help him relax some. Once he reached the base of the stairs, he spotted a familiar group of men sitting at the table closest to the door. He couldn't name them all by name, but there wasn't a doubt in his head that they were from Francis's lot.

He kept his head down as he made his way out of the building, but it wouldn't had mattered if he had strutted up to their table and insulted all their mothers. They were too caught up in their celebrating to notice the odd looks they were receiving from other men seated near them. The second Arthur was out the door he raced down the street towards the dock.

No, Francis couldn't be here. He was told by very reliable resources that Francis and his crew had set off on a suicide plunder and hadn't been seen for a little over seven months. He had to be dead. There was no possible way that he could be alive. He must be-

Emerald eyes widened when he spotted a smiling woman look down at him from her place next to _Elizabeth_. _The Chance de Dame_. He rushed up the gangplank and nearly tripped on several occasions down the creaky steps into the dim light of the inside of the vessel.

"Alfred?" he shouted. He went into his cabin and saw the blonde was no where to be found. "Alfred? Alfred? Where are you? Alfred?"

He went down the hallway bursting into rooms searching for the boy. Every room was empty save for his first mate's room, who was sleeping rather peacefully on his cot.

"Sanders, where's Alfred?"

**Still don't own Hetalia. I'm srry about this being so late and all the OOC in this. **


	4. Chapter 4

Flip

Chapter 4

"_A-Alfred?"_

He heard every alarm in his head go off telling him to run away as fast as he could, but there must have been a faulty nerve or two somewhere along the way from the thoughts making sense of his skyrocketing stomach and that odd sense of fear, then transmitting that to the brain, and from their his brain telling his body to run. His body refused to respond all but his foot that was twitching as if it knew where this was headed.

"Francis, who's at the door?" Matthew's weak voice called from inside.

He took a step down the handful of stairs on the porch towards him. "Come here, Alfred."

Alfred felt the dew slicked grass brush his legs as he began to inch away from the blonde creeping closer and closer.

"It's alright. I won't hurt you. You must be tired. Why don't you come inside for a while? I'm sure Matthew would like to talk to you again and you to him." Francis continued talking to Alfred slowly making his way through the lawn towards him. He must have been trying to come off as comforting, but Alfred was so frightened at this point that he was sure any quick movements would get him a bullet through his head courtesy of an unseen gun man or chased down by Francis.

Now every muscle in his body was tense in anticipation of fleeing only waiting on his head's signal to go into action. But his head was drowning in its own thoughts that were preventing it from allowing Alfred to escape. _I could actually talk to Matthew again. And maybe taste some of Francis's cooking again. Arthur could never really cook and it can't even begin to compare with Francis's. But Arthur's cooking isn't all that bad. Once you get past the burnt scones and his crunchy scrambled eggs with extra texture (eggshells), his food isn't half bad._

Alfred continued making his way towards the shadows, but slower, less sure. While his steps faltered Francis crept closer and closer using his murky thoughts as a cover up. Before Alfred knew it, Francis was standing right in front of his offering his hand down to him. He was scared, scared out of his mind without a valid excuse. This was the moment he had dreamed of, a chance at being free from Arthur and being reunited with the family he stole from him. In the short time they had had together as a family of sorts, Francis had given him more love and attention that Arthur had given him in his whole life. But…

Francis's smile faltered and settled into one with a more bitter undertone and sighed, "Alfred, can you even remember who I am?"

He smiled and laughed off his nervousness, "Sure, I do, Francis. What you do to Mattie? He looks more like your twin than mine now."

"Oh, you noticed the style. You love it, _non_? Completely stunning on him, oui? Almost as gorgeous as it looks on _moi_."

"Sure, Francis. What ever you want to believe."

Matthew's head appeared in the doorway. "Alfred, is that really you?" His voice was cracked in what may have been emotion, but may have been a combination of that and the effort it must have taken him to walk all the way to the door judging by the sheet of sweat on his face.

Alfred frowned. "What happened to him?"

"We're assuming cracked ribs and slight internal bleeding."

"So was there some kind of freak accident or is that just a normal occurrence on your ship?"

"It was a freak accident indeed. We were sailing through the northern Caribbean when-"

"Enough with the ghost theory, Francis!" Matthew paused as his body shook with the hacks of a coughing fit and later attempted to hide the hand he had coughed up blood in behind his back. "If you go around talking like that people are going to put you in an asylum. It was a freak storm, nothing more, nothing less."

"Non, Matthew. I'm pretty sure storms can't pick up ships like rag dolls and toss them to an island that doesn't even exist."

"Can you drop it? It was a relatively small island so it isn't unlikely for us to have been the only people who had ever came across it."

"What would you know? You were sick and delusional the whole time! You weren't even on deck during the attack so what would you know?" Francis crossed his arms defiantly and stuck his tongue out at Matthew.

"I know that my dad is delusional and acts like a two year old."

Francis's retort faded into nothing as what Matthew said echoed through his mind like the dull toll of a large bell. _Dad… Dad… Dad… Dad…_

_Alfred flinched when he heard another scream of agony over the sounds of the raging battle above and he scooted further into the safety of the corner of the dark storage space. The wood beneath his head vibrated violently from a canon being shot above him causing the light of the candle to waver. He tightened the blanket around him once more and continued reading._

"_And the heroic prince and the lovely princess rode all the way back to the prince's kingdom where they… announced they would be married. The… celebration lasted three days and the story of the prince's… deeds was told many times making him the hero of the kingdom. His father was very proud of him for his… achievements and crowned him king of-"_

_There was a loud bang as the trap door that led down to the storage area was slammed open, which was followed by loud footsteps as whoever had came stormed down the steps. Alfred blew out the candle plunging himself into dim twilight and closed his book. As the footsteps got louder and louder, he abandoned his blanket for the safety behind the large crates of rations._

"_Where are you, Alfred?"_

_He was automatically able to tell who it was and peeked over the top of the crate to verify. Sure enough the messy haired blonde was standing there in front of him with his back to him and his bright green eyes scanning through the dim light. Immediately, Alfred launched himself into his backside and buried his face into his coattails._

"_Dad!" he cried happily. "I'm glad you're alright."_

_Arthur pried his arms from around his waist and scowled. "When did it occur to you that you should read instead of waiting here like I asked you to?"_

"_What do you mean? I was waiting here. I just got a little bored so I read some stories from your big green book. And guess what? I read two whole stories all by myself. I had a bit of trouble with some of those really weird words that were hard to say, but I think I did a good job. I might even be ready to read those huge books on your shelf with those _really _big words." Oddly enough, Arthur didn't look the least bit proud at his new advancement in reading, which was something he was certain would allow an honest genuine smile grace his lips; in fact, in this sort of lighting Alfred would easily mistook the look on his face for one of annoyance than pride._

"_Now, Alfred, tell me this. What would have happened if I wasn't the one who came down here?"_

"_Well, if you didn't get me it'd probably be Sanders and he'd give me a biscuit. Then I'd probably have to take my nap and-"_

"_No, Alfred. What would happen if we had lost?"_

"_Then I'd hide. Francis could never find me when we played hide-and-seek."_

_His expression immediately turned sour and he snapped, "He was just humoring you. If a real threat were to come down here looking for you, you'd be killed and gutted so fast that if you were still alive then it's make you sick."_

"_Nu-uh. He would take all day to find me. Even you couldn't back when you played with us."_

_He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Like I said before _humoring _you-"_

"_No, he wasn't."_

"_Alfred, you're forgetting the point-"_

"_No, you're just trying to change the subject!" It just wasn't fair. He was just jealous because Francis was the better parent. He _always _was._

_He knelt down to look Alfred in the eye and yelled, "Then would you be so kind to tell me what this subject is?"_

"_You never let me do anything that Francis let Matt do. He-"_

_His hand slapped over his mouth. "Don't, Alfred. Just _don't_."_

_In a surge of rage, Alfred buried his teeth into the fleshy part of Arthur's palm. Arthur howled with pain and drew back while Alfred spat out Arthur's blood on the floor. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "It isn't fair! Francis, let me and Matt do whatever we wanted, but you won't even let me outside. You were always jealous of him because he was fun and you're not. And you got rid of him and Matthew all because-"_

_Arthur raised his hand that was still bleeding down towards Alfred's face, but it stopped a few centimeters short of his face shaking uncontrollably as he clenched and unclenched his hand. Alfred was curled up in a fetal position with his eyes screwed up preparing for the belated slap. But it never came. Alfred cracked an eye open and found Arthur silently seething with his fist itching to come down on his head._

_After taking a ragged breath in, he lowered his hand and turned on his heel. Arthur march up the stairs, stepped out into the hallway, and closed the door behind him. His voice managed to make its way through the door to Alfred's ear only being slightly muffled by the wood and the creaking of the ship. "You may come out when I feel you have learned your lesson." There was the sound of metal chafing against each other and fading footsteps._

"_Dad?" Alfred called out, but he got no response. "Dad?" He climbed up the stairs and wrestled with the doorknob. It wouldn't turn. "Dad? Dad?" His voice became high pitched with desperation. "Dad! Don't leave me here by myself! Let me out! Let me out!" _

_No response, not even a single sound from inside the hallway. "Hello? I know you can hear me! Dad? Don't ignore me!" He didn't notice he was crying until the warm salty drops fell from his eyelashes onto his cheeks. Not bothering to wipe his eyes, Alfred kicked the door and rattled at the doorknob. "I hate you! I hate you! Francis, would never do this to me! Do you hear me, _Arthur? I hate you!_"_

Alfred blinked and found himself outside the _Elizabeth _and back outside on Port Haven standing in the swaying grass when a shriek pierced his ears.

Maria was back out in the yard once again brandishing a rolling pin in one back with the other one holding Francis by the ear who was rubbing the top of his head. "Really, Francis? I expected much better from you. Poor little Matthew here is paler than a ghost and you're insisting on picking a fight all because you're a little crabby from your trip. And then Alfred here has to sit back and endure all of it."

"There was no need to hit me, _mon cher_. Shouldn't we be getting inside so you can look at Matthew?"

"Yes, we should. Matthew, I need you to go back and lay down. We wouldn't want you to get any more hurt than you are now."

Matthew nodded and obediently allowed her and Francis help him back inside the house. He struggled when going up the steep porch steps, but with Maria's sturdy frame under his left arm and Francis holding him up on his right he was able to make it onto the stairs. "Those were way easier to walk down than to get up," he panted before going inside.

Alfred watched them disappear inside then settled his gaze onto the dusty road that divided the tiny community from the outskirts of the urban town. Many of the windows on the backs of the chipped brick buildings were still alit along with whatever ruffians weren't unconscious from their alcohol gorge. No one was about on the streets except those stray drunkards that had hit the bar hard earlier on and were as dead as to the world one could get while still having a pulse. He followed them inside and shut the door.

Surprisingly, it wasn't pitch black like Alfred had expected. The living room was lit up with various candles scattered about the mantle and tables. Matthew was draped across the couch with Francis hovering nervously from the back of the couch and Maria bent over him.

"Is he going to die? Is anything broken? Has he gotten any infections? Can you save him?"

Maria looked up to the paranoid blonde with annoyance written in her narrowed eyes. "Quit hovering. I can't get anything done with you breathing down my neck."

Francis backed off near the door standing next to Alfred craning his neck to see Maria's progress with Matthew.

Maria began to work at unraveling the thick bandages wrapped around Matthew's torso and was cautious when removing pieces of gauze practically glued to his skin by the dried blood. Matthew stifled a whimper when she peeled back the bandage from an area that was a light purple and was showing signs of healing. She paused in her work and prodded at his side earning a wince.

"This rib is definitely broken. Its definitely healing up quite nicely. Just rewrap him and make sure he isn't sleeping on his side or stomach and he should be back to normal in several weeks."

She continued to poke and prod at Matthew for a while, but found nothing more to report except a few more broken ribs and gashes that would more than likely leave scars. Once she finished, she fished around her cabinets for more bandages and had Francis help her rewrap him. By the time they had finished Matthew was out cold and the time was catching up to the rest of them.

Maria yawned, "It's late. We should all turn in for the night." She went around the room and blew out all the candles but one, which she grabbed from its stand. Its flickering light barely illuminated the hallway before her. "Francis, can you carry Matthew into the first guest room on the right? You can sleep in the room next to mine with your friend."

He nodded and picked up the sleeping boy and disappeared into the room while Maria went down to her room on the far end of the hallway taking the candle with her. Once both were out of sight, Alfred slipped back outside onto the porch.

The ever present sound of men drinking in the buildings could not be heard as most people drunk or not was sleeping by now. Now, the sounds of the crickets' song and the low croaks of the frogs weren't overpowered by the sounds of men. Alfred sat down on the first step drinking it all in.

It was nice not to have the ground constantly swaying beneath his feet. Once you got your sea legs, being onboard a ship wasn't all that bad, but it couldn't compare to the dependability land gave him. Alfred sighed contently and laid back making it his priority to savor this moment and preserve it in his mind forever.

"Alfred?"

"Mmh~" He cracked an eyelid open and saw Francis leaning over him.

"It's late, Alfred. Go to bed."

"I will. I will."

"Just go to bed soon. Okay? We have a lot to discuss in the morning."

"Yeah, I know. I just need five more minutes then I'll come inside. I haven't been on land for almost six months."

"… Just five more minutes. Nothing more, alright?"

"Alright, alright. Don't wait up. You look like you need the sleep more than I do." He was right. The purple bags under his eyes told him he has been living off of short half hour naps for at least the past month.

"Yeah, it'd be good to finally get some sleep." He yawned and rubbed his eyes sleepily. "G'night, Alfred."

"'Night."

The blonde retreated into the house once more leaving Alfred by himself out on the porch. His eyelids began to droop, but he fought to keep awake. The cricket's chirping met his resistance with a soft lullaby that greatly damaged his will to fight fatigue. His limbs refused to obey him when he commanded them to carry him back inside so he could sleep, but stayed limb against the still warm wood of the porch.

He closed his eyes deciding that he would only rest them for a second before going back inside. That's just what he needed. Just a second or two of rest. _Just a second… Then he'd get up. Then he'd…_

His eyes fluttered open and was met with blinding light and the scuffle of footsteps. _How long had he'd been asleep? _

"I can't believe Captain has us searching for him. This was supposed to be our little vacation." The man scowled and kicked a rock sending it flying across the road.

"Yeah. There's probably a whole bunch of bastards running about this island. What's the chance of finding the kid we're looking for?"

"Well, we could always just turn in a kid that looks close enough to Alfred and get the reward money."

_Reward? Alfred?_ He wasn't near to being fully awake, but the bells in his head were screaming for him to scramble behind the porch wall so he was out of sight.

The man was punched in the shoulder by his companion who hissed, "Arthur would know and probably keelhaul anyone who tries that trick. He's desperate, not stupid."

"What was that, boys?"

Both men froze on the spot along with Alfred's heart at the sound of the British man that appeared to come behind them out of nowhere.

"N-nothing, Captain. We're just looking here to see if Alfred might have wondered off here… He doesn't seem to be here. So if you find it quite alright, Captain, sir, we'll be taking our leave and search for him in town."

"You know what?" Arthur slung his arms about the pair's shoulder and slipped in between them. "I think I'll be joining you gents in your search expedition. If you don't mind." "Not at all, Captain."

Alfred stood up and began to creep towards the door flinching every time the boards creaked under his weight. His hand found the door knob and he did a silent celebration. He pushed opened the door and the silence of the atmosphere was brutally killed by the loud whining of the door's hinges. He winced and felt a fiery emerald gaze light his back of fire.

Ignoring the multiple pairs of eyes now aware of his presence, he went inside and closed and locked the door behind him. He crouched down below the window overlooking the yard and risked a peek between the white curtains

The men's gaze was still on the house, but Arthur suddenly dropped his gaze said something that made the other two shake with laughter (whether forced or genuine, Alfred could not tell) and they disappeared around the bend.

**Srry for any OOC-ness, but I'm gonna come out a be honest with you. This chapter was a pain in the butt to write and is definitely the longest chapter I've ever written. And it like almost one in the friggin morning now… I'm really losing hope in this because it feels likes people aren't reading it. I have a lot of plot bunnies in my head and they are really impatient to be written down, but I want to be completely devoted to this one until I finished it. Hopefully, the next chapter won't be so long.**

**Don't own Hetalia. I wished I did, but I don't.**


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